


Return to Love

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Series: Remembrance [9]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26442760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: by UluithielA sunny day, a second-breakfast picnic, and Sam. MMMmmmmmmm.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Series: Remembrance [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922128
Kudos: 5
Collections: Least Expected





	Return to Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned these hobbits would I be spending all this time at the computer writing about them?  
> Story Notes: I love F/S! LOVE it!!

28 June, 1419 (in the Shire reckoning)

Minas Tirith

> "Then Aragorn cried: 'Ye! utuvienyes! I have found it! Lo! here is a scion of the Eldest of Trees!. . . . And Aragorn planted the new tree in the court by the fountain, and swiftly and gladly it began to grow; and when the month of June entered in it was laden with blossom."  
>  _The Return of the King_ p 250

"We've seen a good many fine and wonderful things in our travels," said Sam, "but I think this may be just about the wonderfullest."

Frodo smiled down at Sam, kneeling beside the blooming mallorn tree in the Place of the Fountain. He loved seeing Sam like this: earth mixing with his good sweat; hazel eyes sparking green and copper in the sun. When he was working with living things Sam was utterly irresistible -- even had Frodo the inclination to resist him. Which, today, he had not.

Frodo laid a hand on Sam's head, twining sunlit curls in his fingers, lifting damp tendrils from the strong neck. "My gardener," he murmured.

"Aye, everyone has their task, and gardening is mine, seemingly," said Sam comfortably.

"Hmm. I have in mind exploring some of your other talents today," said Frodo softly.

The sparkle of invitation was unmistakable in the bottomless blue eyes. Sam smiled up into them. "Aye, that we could do," he agreed, his voice a little husky.

Frodo gave him his best Pippin-style pout. "I'm hungry, Sam," he said.

"Hungry! You haven't been hungry for . . . let's get you something to eat right now," and Sam leapt up to hurry towards the butteries, passion forgotten in solicitude.

"They don't serve second breakfast in the dining halls at Minas Tirith." Frodo maintained his pout, though a smile was beginning to curl its edges.

"Nay, even Master Took has been unable to establish that custom here. But I'm sure I can find us something."

"I have a better idea." Frodo's teasing sideways glance did interesting things to the pit of Sam's stomach. "Why don't we pack up a nice second breakfast and go on a picnic, just us two?"

Sam started purposefully toward their rooms.

"Sam! Where are you going? The buttery's that way!"

Sam grinned back over his shoulder. "I'm packing the blankets _first_."

* * *

"Where did you find apple tart?" Frodo asked dreamily. He was lying on his back, the sun warming his face. The murmur of the Anduin and drone of dragonflies was hypnotic.

"Baked by Master Meriadoc himself," said Sam. Merry hadn't wanted to relinquish two of his precious tarts, but few people could resist Sam when he was begging something for Frodo -- and Merry was not one of those few.

Frodo rolled up on one elbow and looked over at Sam through half-lidded eyes. "What are you doing way over there, and why are you wearing all those clothes?" he asked languidly.

Both sounded like very reasonable questions to Sam.

By the time Sam was undressed Frodo was also naked on the blanket, and the sight took his breath away. Frodo, meantime, was feasting his eyes on the sight of a naked Sam standing silhouetted against the afternoon sun. "C'mere," he said, rolling to his back and opening his arms. Sam slid comfortably between Frodo's raised knees.

One of Sam's favorite games was trying to decide just what part of Frodo's ear was the most delicious. Was it the delectable pointed tip, or the lush softness of the lobe? The delicate shell-like curves within, or the fragrant hollow just behind the ear? The latter had the advantage of making Frodo shiver when Sam placed his lips there. Yes, the shiver definitely gave that spot an unfair advantage, thought Sam, repeating his attentions and listening to Frodo's breath catch.

Frodo placed his right foot on the back of Sam's thigh and slid it down the well-muscled leg. His hands traced over Sam's shoulders, down his flanks and around to the tight buttocks. Fitting his palms to their lovely curve, Frodo pressed Sam closer to him and moaned appreciatively. Sam's mouth came around, tongue tracing a hot wet line from the ear to the corner of Frodo's lips. He kissed Frodo softly, small sipping kisses, then continued a trail of kisses down to the spot where Frodo's throat joined his shoulder. There he sucked softly, running his teeth very lightly along the cord of the neck. Frodo shivered again.

When. . . Sam saw the incredible blue eyes swirl, taking Frodo away from him. But this time was different. Frodo's face remained relaxed, a smile curving the full lips, and when his eyes focused again his face shone with happiness.

"Where did you go just then?" Sam asked.

"Dear Sam." Frodo pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "You always know when I go away don't you? I was just remembering another time, camping by a stream. Back in the Shire, our first night out. Do you remember?"

"I remember having a hard time sleeping," groused Sam, nuzzling Frodo's neck. "I stayed awake half the night, thinking of you laying there just an arm's reach away."

Frodo sat up, smiling with delight. "Did you really? What fools we were! I did the same, Sam. All day I had watched you walking, and seen the outline of your chest when your shirt got wet with sweat, and I thought I would go totally mad with wanting you."

"Back then I could never have imagined that I'd be here, making love with you," agreed Sam. "Or leastways I imagined it all the time, but I never had a hope any of my imaginings would truly happen."

Sam looked down at the flushed face below him and smiled. "The reality puts even my very best imaginings to shame," he said, and he slid himself down to Frodo's quivering loins. Sam licked his palm and grasped the shaft, sliding gently up and down while he whirled his tongue around the velvety tip, loving the salty sweet taste. Slowly, using steady suction, he drew Frodo deeper and deeper into his mouth while gently squeezing the taut orbs below.

Frodo's back arched, and his hands tangled in Sam's hair. "C'mere," he said again, reaching down to tug at Sam. Sam willingly turned himself so his own throbbing erection was within Frodo's reach. A cry burst from him as Frodo's warm mouth closed over it.

The taste of Frodo's sex in his mouth, the feel of Frodo's mouth on his sex, the glow of happiness that had overlaid the entire day, ravished Sam.

Too soon, much too soon, Frodo's mouth left him, and he pulled himself away from Sam's attentions. Sam sat up to meet him and they embraced, arms and legs intertwined, rocking to and fro in the sunshine. Frodo caught Sam's hand and with both hands they grasped their shafts together, increasing the friction, loving the twining of fingers.

Frodo's breath was ragged. "Sam," he gasped. "Sam . . . I need . . . ' With a lithe movement he grabbed the pack that had held their picnic. Scrabbling in the bottom, he produced a tiny bottle of scented oil. "Sam," he said. "Make love to me Sam. Please."

"Are you sure?" whispered Sam gently. Since his torments in the Tower of Cirith Ungol, Sam had decided that Frodo might never be able to accept that act of love again. "Are you sure?"

"Sam, I need your light. I need your love. Bring it into me, Sam. Please."

"Aye, then, let's be doing this right," said Sam huskily, and he laid Frodo gently down on the blankets. "Now you be speaking if you need to stop," he warned.

"I won't need to stop." Frodo's smile was incandescent. "You won't hurt me, Sam."

"Nay, I won't. Never," murmured Sam. He uncorked the little bottle and applied oil to his fingers and to Frodo's opening. Massaging in a gentle circle, he let the warming oil allow the slide of his finger into Frodo.

Frodo gasped, and an instant of panic flashed over his face. Sam immediately stopped, motionless, waiting. Then, seeing the face below him relax, he extended his finger further, searching for the firm node that they had named the Sweet Spot.

When he found it Frodo's hips bucked and an exultant cry burst from his lips. Sam smiled, caressing the firm nodule, watching Frodo's face, feeling his own erection swell and throb. Still caressing, he slid a second finger into Frodo, gently stretching, soothing.

Frodo's hand strayed to Sam's shaft, holding it gently. Sam glanced down and saw that it was the right hand, and Frodo had allowed Sam's member to slide into the gap between the second and fourth fingers. Tears pricked Sam's lids as he leaned down to kiss Frodo deeply, easing a third finger inside.

Frodo's eyes opened wide, wide, drowning Sam in their blue depths. "Now, Sam . . . please . . . please," he gasped.

Sam knelt between Frodo's pale thighs, parting them gently. Frodo slipped his legs up Sam's arms and over his shoulders. Sam smiled down into Frodo's eyes as he applied more oil to himself and to Frodo.

The tip of Sam's shaft slid in smoothly and gently, making both of them gasp. Frodo's gasp was not without alarm, and again Sam stopped, waiting, holding. Then he bent to kiss Frodo as he slid deeper in a careful silken glide, testing the angle, seeking their Sweet Spot.

And finding it. Frodo's mouth opened against Sam's, shouting soundlessly, as his fingers plunged into Sam's silky curls and hung on as to a lifeline.

Very slowly, Sam withdrew, almost all the way. Very slowly he pressed back in, stroking at a slightly different angle. Frodo's entire body shuddered, and he clutched Sam convulsively. Sam lifted his head, missing the delight of Frodo's mouth, but revelling in the sight of his face, lost in abandon, eyes clenched shut, curls tangling as he whipped his head from side to side.

"Sam! Please. . . Sam. . . Sam. . ." Frodo was incoherent with passion, consumed by his desire and his need. His hips raised themselves convulsively against Sam's, pleading.

Sam laughed low in his throat. "Nay, I shan't be hurried here," he whispered into Frodo's ear, and Frodo laid his arm across his eyes and moaned.

Sam was transported by Frodo's clenching embrace, the hunger in his face, his hands clutching Sam's shoulders. When Frodo's heels beat an urgent tattoo on his back, Sam felt he might swoon with the sensation. But he breathed deeply and maintained a slow, steady, deliberate rhythm, pulling out dangerously far, stroking in deliciously deep, and again, and again.

Until finally he could bear it no longer. Passion gripped his spine, forcing the rhythm to quicken, his thrusts sliding impossibly deeper. When he spent himself within Frodo's body, he felt as if he was planting there a seed of life, of love.

Sam slid quickly down Frodo's chest, sliding the tense legs off his shoulders, and swiftly took Frodo into his mouth, and almost immediately Frodo came.

Frodo's essence within him, his essence within Frodo. It was so right. At last Sam allowed the languor of the aftermath to overtake him. Drawing Frodo into his arms, throwing a leg over the still-quivering hips, he held him tightly.

Frodo was sobbing, hands splayed across Sam's back, legs intertwined, seeming to be trying to draw Sam inside his skin. Gently Sam soothed him, cradling the curly head against his shoulder, whispering nonsense syllables of love into his ear.

Many moment later, Frodo's sobs became words. "I choose you, Sam. I choose you. I choose life. I choose you."

"What do you mean, dearest?" Sam asked gently.

Frodo's breath was returning to normal, though tears still glistened on the black lashes. "I have only two choices, Sam. I can choose the Darkness -- and sometimes that seems like the most logical choice. It would be so easy to slide into it, let it cover me."

He kissed Sam's mouth, which was beginning to open in protest. "No, Sam. I will not make that choice. I will fight that choice.

"You are my only other choice. The love, the light, the life within you. It is my only choice, my only chance to fight the Darkness."

Frodo's eyes were troubled again. "I don't think I will ever be rid of the Darkness, Sam. It will still claim me sometimes. I will need your light, your love, to bring me back. It seems like so much to ask," and again Frodo pressed a kiss against Sam's protest, "but it is my choice."

the end

> "and it's 'coz you've thrilled me  
> silenced me, stilled me  
> proved things I never believed  
> Oh! the face on you  
> the smell of you  
> will always be with me."
> 
> Sinead O'Connor Three Babies


End file.
